


Those Cunning And Loyal Folk

by orphan_account



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Amortentia, Angst, Basically the story of these nerds being in love and not knowing how the other feels, But like... with magic, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts!au, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oliver's POV, connor's pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Connor realised suddenly what that meant - that meant, that above all those other dear scents, he felt most strongly about Oliver. Not only that, but he was attracted to him. He held a special place, close to Connor's heart.</p><p>Oh god. He was in love with his best friend."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> After a requests on tumblr to write a fic based off some headcanons, I've started this multi-chapter fic... Cos who doesn't like coliver and hp?? These are two of my fav universes - so this should be fun. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Note: This first chapter is more like a prologue, it's set when they're in Sixth Year, the rest will be in Seventh Year
> 
> (The title is supposed to be a mix of the Slytherin + Hufflepuff mottos idk)

**connors pov**

Oliver clearly wasn't looking ahead of him - his head was dipped, his focus set on the books he was struggling to hold in his arms.

Connor weighed the situation from his spot against a nearby pillar. He could surprise his friend - that always produced amusing results. Or he could warn him about the other student's trailing robes he was about to trip over.

"Oliver! Watch out for --" 

Oliver jumped at Connor's words and went stumbling, dropping several thick books and almost falling with them. Thankfully, Connor swooped in at the last moment, grabbing Oliver's arm to halt the fall. 

When he glanced up, Oliver's face was shocked, then he slipped into a grin at the sight of Connor's overly protective stance - he was gripping Oliver tightly, feet planted, with his other hand waiting to jump to the rescue.

"Connor, I'm fine. Are... you okay? You look concerned?"

Connor realised his face was pressed in worry, then realised he must look ridiculous. Oliver had barely stumbled. 

He took away his hand and relaxed. He relaxed a little too much - his shoulders slackened and he put his weight on one leg, only to trip over his own feet. Oliver laughed warmly.

Connor tried not to look sulky, but then he saw Oliver's face lit in a smile, and he felt decidedly less sulky. With the steadily growing amount of work both students had been facing recently, that laugh had been missing more than not. Connor matched the laugh, happy to see his closest friend so... well, happy.

"Sorry. I was just gonna warn you, you were about to trip over," Connor said.

Oliver frowned jokingly. "Well, it's a good thing you stopped that happening. That would've been embarrassing."

Rolling his eyes, Connor helped pick up the books left sprawled on the stone floor. The two boys set off down the pale corridor, weaving through the masses of students now heading to their lesson after lunch.

Oliver fiddled with his tie, which seemed perpetually scruffy. When he had even one free hand, he was fixing his yellow-striped tie. "So I thought we were going to meet outside the dungeon entrance before class?"

"Well, I decided intercepting you on the way would be more fun," Connor shrugged. "Hey, how did your study date go?"

"It wasn't a study date, Con. I already told you that." Oliver's voice was laced with irritation - Connor couldn't tell who it was directed at. Oliver never got angry at him. "Asher needed some help with herbology homework, and it helps me to explain it to someone else."

"Why do you sound annoyed then?"

"Because Asher just does. Not. Get it."

They approached the tall entrance to the potions classroom. The chill of the dungeons seemed to settle in the fabric of Connor's Hogwarts robes and surround him. He shivered furiously. 

Oliver continued. "I don't know why you're bothered, Asher's the straightest guy I know. He once asked me to pass him the plate of turkey at lunch, and had to say 'no homo' about three times after."

Halting, Connor frowned. "I didn't say I was bothered. Date whoever you like. I'm just offended that three times 'no homo' champion is more worthy of your free time than I am."

Again, Oliver laughed widely, and nudged Connor absently. Connor smiled back. 

~~~

"Love."

The word reverberated around the looming dungeon walls. Strangely, it hooked onto Connor's attention and drew him in. 

"Miss Pratt, please, how is love defined?" Professor Keating stood at the front of the class, with a leather bound book resting in her hands. From the back of the class, Connor saw Michaela Pratt - possibly the only student to be matching his grade in potions - toss her hair back and cite her pristine answer. 

"An unconditional feeling of affection or care towards another person, Professor."

"Excellent. And Miss Castillo, do you think that love is something capable of materialising? Can it be made into a physical form, do you think?"

Laurel Castillo, perhaps the only student Connor had genuine respect for, gave her much more entertaining answer. 

"Well, you wouldn't think so Professor, but the answer you're looking for is yes, because we're about to study the amortentia potion, which is essentially liquid love."

Connor smirked. He liked Laurel - even as a quiet First Year, she'd had a definite air of confidence about her. She'd clearly grown into it.

As the class sniggered, Connor glanced at Oliver sat next to him. Surely he would find this as entertaining as Connor did - Professor Keating's attempt to build some suspense about the amortentia potion was futile. Everybody knows that Sixth Years learn about the infamous love potion around this time of year.

But Connor was puzzled to see Oliver listening intently, as Keating lectured the history of the potion. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly in concentration - it was the same look he wore in herbology, his favourite class, when he was thoroughly interested.

Straightening his back, Connor decided to listen. If Oliver was paying attention, it was probably interesting.

"Over the years, I'm sure you've heard a variety of tales about amortentia. Most likely, stories about eternal love; soul mates meeting over the scented smoke and falling for each other."

At this point, even the students nearer the back of the class started listening. Oliver readied his pen next to Connor, prepared to take notes.

"Today you'll learn that none of that has an ounce of truth to it."

The silence that met Keating's words wasn't awkward, or bored - it was intrigued.

"The love potion is misnamed. The potion doesn't in fact inspire love, but intense obsession. Love is an emotion so extreme that it cannot be created outside of the human conscious, even by magic."

Next to Connor, Oliver scribbled away. On the other side of him, a student Connor barely knew followed his example and starting writing. More and more students started writing in their books - which was odd, considering they only ever did that in this class if they were told to.

"But what magic can do is quite incredible - especially in this case. Amortentia, when consumed, encourages a feeling of infatuation so strong, that it imitates love in it's most concentrated state. It can wear off, of course, but it's effects are immediate and even quite dangerous."

Smiling a wicked smile, Professor Keating held up the book. "So, let's get started."

Within ten minutes, the students were bustling around the room, collecting ingredients and studying the recipe. Connor gathered the things he needed and returned to his seat, to find Oliver and Michaela in a heated discussion. 

"...Of course you can add more ashwinder eggs! They're the key ingredient, Oliver."

"I know what you mean Michaela, but it's always better to stick to the recipe. I don't want it to like... explode, or something."

"You won't make it explode."

"Well _you_ won't, Ravenclaw."

"Your point is, Hufflepuff?"

Connor jutted in. "Hey, nerds, are you actually going to start your potions or not? It'd probably be more productive than arguing about it."

Michaela smirked lightly, moving to the side to reveal two bubbling cauldrons. Connor pouted, but tried to make it look menacing. Michaela laughed, and sauntered off to find some extra ashwinder eggs.

Oliver picked up where he left off. "Can you believe she wants to add extra? She thinks it'll make the effect stronger - as if no one has tried that before. It's gonna go wrong."

Connor nodded, standing at Oliver's left and setting up his own cauldron. It took him less than a minute to have the potion swirling into fruition. Amortentia may be advanced, but Connor's potions skills could tackle it easily. 

Oliver saw this progress and looked dejectedly at his own.

Lessening the heat on Oliver's cauldron - because he always gave in and helped him in this particular lesson - Connor spoke the question on his mind.

"So, Ollie, why do you think everyone's drooling over this potion? I mean, I can't be that big of a deal right?"

Stirring his potion far too quickly, Oliver gave him one of those _i-can't-believe-i-have-to-tell-you-this_ looks.

"It's obvious, Con," Oliver said, eyebrows raised at him. 

Connor raised his eyebrows back, resorting to sarcasm.

"Are you telling be me you don't want to be able to make a person fall in love with you?" Oliver's voice softened on the word 'love'.

Connor snickered. "I don't need to."

Oliver rolled his eyes - it looked impressively similar to Connor's signature eye roll. "Of course you'd say that. Some of us don't have..." He gestured to Connor with a sprig of peppermint in hand, "what you have."

Just as Connor went to respond in frustration, Michaela reappeared. Connor sighed and Michaela ignored him, turning to Oliver. 

"Keating wouldn't let me get more eggs. You know, I'm really beginning to lose my admiration for her..."

Oliver opened his mouth to reply but then his eyes caught onto the steaming swirl that was Connor's cauldron. "Um, Con, I think your potion needs some attention."

Quickly, Connor tended to his potion, cooling the chaotic storm inside. Once it settled, the liquid glittered with a pearly sheen.

Professor Keating noticed the bustling and made her way over. She observed Connor's completed potion with a rare look of approval. 

With a smile, she spoke to Connor. "I must say, Mister Walsh, this is very impressive. This potion is... almost perfect. Ten points to Slytherin." With that she placed the lid on the cauldron, and strode away to help another student struggling with some spilt powdered moonstone.

Connor flashed a grin at his envious audience - most of the other students had gathered around and were muttering contentiously about the boy who always beat them in potions. Oliver was the only one without a scowl - instead he ignored his own work in progress and gave Connor a congratulatory rub on the shoulder.

For the second irritating time that lesson, Michaela interjected with her proud tone. 

"It's not that impressive, actually. Mine was close, but there were a few simple errors. You're not better than me. I'll do it again now, to show you."

Connor placated his expression, feeling a little sympathetic. "It's fine, Michaela. Yours went great, it just needed more stirring."

Nodding, Michaela's eyes drifted away for a second - then snapped back to meet Connor's. Her hands fluttered in an almost childish manner.

"Oh my god - you have to smell it! Remember, the smoke from an amortentia potion smells different to each individual - it smells like the things you love the most, whatever has the closest place to your heart."

Connor look at Oliver next to him, to gauge his opinion. When Oliver noticed him looking, he simply nodded in the same excited way.

Slightly hesitant, Connor removed the cauldron lid. With it, a cloud of smoke was released - but instead of the smoke filling the air around them, like it should've done, it rose in delicate spirals, making a pattern like a ribbon caught in a breeze.

Connor leant forward and the scent met him - strong and vibrant and wow. Almost immediately, the familiar smell of his childhood pet cat, Scratches, sent his memory reeling. 

Not long after, a wave of freshly baked cinnamon cookies took over, bringing with it the taste and comfort of a favourite treat.

Then was the rain - no, Connor smelt the ground after it had rained; damp, enriched, soft and all-consuming. A scent he'd found solace in for years and years.

Finally, and most intensely, he smelt a gentle rosy smell. It reminded him of the Hogwarts conservatory - brimming with nature. It reminded Connor of -

Oliver.

The scent was Oliver's. It was one that had grown on Connor subconsciously, but now that he recognised it, it was overwhelming. 

He saw Oliver watching him, intent on seeing his reaction to the smells. 

Although the two boys were very comfortable with each other - being best friends - they rarely took time to hug. 

But now, Connor recalled the time in First Year, when he first met Oliver. Connor had accidentally picked up Oliver's luggage on the Express, and when he returned it days later, Oliver had hugged him tightly, before realising that was a weird thing to do with a stranger.

In Third Year, Connor had found his good friend Oliver one morning with a busted lip and torn clothing. He'd been attacked by a group of Sixth Year Gryffindors who thought Oliver had offended their friend. When Connor helped him to the Infirmary and was told to wait outside, Oliver made sure he left with a hug. 

Right at the start of Sixth Year, after not seeing each other for weeks and weeks, Connor had spotted Oliver looking for him at Platform 9 and 3/4, and rushed to hug him, regardless of the bustling crowds. That hug lasted for minutes.

Every time, Connor had been close enough to breathe that scent that he now knew was Oliver. The one he smelt now, with eye-watering intensity.

Connor realised suddenly what that meant - that meant, that above all those other dear scents, he felt most strongly about Oliver. Not only that, but he was attracted to him. He held a special place, close to Connor's heart.

Oh god. He was in love with his best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the support on this fic so far - it inspired me to write another chapter much sooner than i normally would aha. this chapter is much shorter, but im most likely going to extend it later or make the next few chapters much bigger.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

**olivers pov**

"Augeo!"

The dead leaf in Connor's hand rattled weakly, but didn't grow.

Oliver took the lead from his hand and replaced it with another one, hoping that the leaf was the problem. Connor just huffed in irritation and dropped it.  
They'd been sat together on this bench for hours now. The other students had all gone inside ages ago, when the air had become chilled with almost-winter frost. Connor had been trying to perfect his charms, with Oliver's assistance, but it proving more difficult than either of them thought it would be.

"We should just go inside, Ollie. I'm not getting any better, and you're practically blue with cold." Connor's voice was void of the determination he started the afternoon with.  
Oliver pushed his glasses up, trying hard not to pity Connor. Though it was cold, and they were both tired, and they could be spending their Sunday afternoon in much more entertaining ways, this was for Connor's benefit. And Oliver was determined to help his best friend.

"We're Seventh Years. We don't get breaks." Oliver cringed at how harsh he sounded. "I just want to help you do well in your N.E.W.Ts. It could be worse - at least the only subject you're struggling with is charms."

Connor's soft eyes were stuck on the frost-glazed ground. Oliver watched him, sympathetic. 

Then he noticed a snowflake, falling between them. Another one landed on Connor's cheek, right next to his freckle, sitting like a jewel against his skin.  
Connor looked up and gazed at the sky. All around the empty courtyard, snow was drifting down to meet them. Oliver glanced at his friend, who'd given in to a small smile.

Voice much softer, Connor spoke, "its September. And it's already snowing."

Oliver grinned. "Magical."

They both laughed, but quietly, as if the scene surrounding them were too delicate to disturb with noise. 

Oliver's eyes once again drifted to Connor's face. His skin was pale, almost like the snow swirling around him. His eyes were lit up now, reflecting the glitter of the falling jewels. His hair was mussed and tumbling over his eyes, unkempt from hours of frustrated tugging.

Again, Oliver watched his eyes. They were brown, the kind of soft brown that millions of people are born with, but only Connor makes look alive with light. 

_God, he's beautiful._

Oliver looked away fast, reminding himself he couldn't do that. He couldn't look at Connor like that, despite how it made his heart swell. 

Being in love with his best friend doesn't excuse staring at him, like some kind of idiot.

Since perhaps the moment they'd met, Oliver fallen for Connor, hard and fast. But those feelings weren't allowed, because friends don't feel that way about other friends. Connor doesn't feel that way, so Oliver shouldn't. Which means Oliver can't gaze at him adoringly. Or imagine what it'd be like to be the reason Connor's hair was a tousled mess.

"Hey, Ollie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you do that charm, the one with the birds? It's my favourite."

Oliver looked at him through the snow, and smiled. "'Course."

Waving his hand in a vague shape, Oliver muttered the word _avis._

A loud bang interrupted the tranquillity, and they watched as a small flock of birds flew from Oliver's wand. Connor laughed at clapped his hands, watching the colourful birds. They danced and fluttered around the two boys gracefully.

One of the birds perched on Connor's resting arm. It was delicate and white, and Connor grinned at it. 

Speaking quietly, Oliver pointed at the bird, "Con? Try it. The enlargement charm."

Connor looked at him, just for a few seconds, and licked his lower lip. Then he aimed at the bird, cast the spell under his breath, and waved his hand.

And the bird grew.

~~~

Connor was smiling when he rushed out of the door, turning to wait for Oliver. The way he bounced up and down on his feet made Oliver feel giddy, but he was excited too. 

"Well? How did it go Con?"

"Great! It went great!" Connor was practically yelling, and Oliver had to place a hand on his shoulder to calm him. 

"Good. I'm so happy for you, Con," Oliver smiled.

"I mean I now it was only a _practice_ charms exam --"

"Connor. It doesn't matter - what matters is that it went well." Oliver noticed Connor's face starting to edge into panic, so he pulled him in close and hugged him. 

Connor's body relaxed immediately, and he wrapped his arms around Oliver's torso under his robes. It'd been a long time since Oliver had been close enough to feel Connor's breath on him, and he wondered why they didn't hug more often. Oliver felt Connor's nose tickle his neck slightly, and it took all of his will not to turn his head and kiss Connor. Oliver remembered why he never hugged Connor if he could help it; being so close together had a dangerous effect. 

When Connor pulled back, he kept a hand on Oliver's arm. His skin was warm and strangely soft.

"Thanks for all your help, Ollie. Seriously."

"It's fine - I had to repay you for all your advice in potions right? If you weren't always around, I'm pretty sure I would've melted my cauldron or something by now."

Connor laughed, and his whole face joined in. Oliver fell in love for the millionth time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik it's strange this fic is set in winter when I'm writing/posting it in summer, but all I'll say is that I hate heat and I'm in denial.
> 
> Thank you for the support so far, it makes my lil heart warm.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

**connors pov**

The sight of Oliver hunched over his books, face slumped, made Connor's happy features drop the minute he entered the library. 

Sat in a sea of notes and scribbles, were Oliver and Laurel, the fellow Slytherin from potions class.

"What's wrong?" Connor asked as he approached. The edges of Oliver's jumper sleeves were stretched and threads were beginning to protrude wildly - which meant Oliver was upset.

"I can't go to Hogsmeade this year. Again." Oliver's voice was dull and sharp at the same time.

Pulling out a seat next to his friend, Connor caught Laurel's strict gaze. Her mouth slimmed ever so slightly, but Connor noticed, and he understood Oliver's fragile state. It was the same one he'd fell into last year, and the year before that, and pretty much every time he'd been told Hogsmeade wasn't happening.

Connor didn't know his bests friend's family that well, oddly enough, but he knew that they had had one family friend who'd been left with a sprained ankle after a visit to Hogsmeade. Being a deeply protective bunch, they'd sent Oliver off to his first year at Hogwarts with a firm promise to never let him near the village.

Sometimes it occurred to Connor that it was quite fortunate that the Hampton's didn't know about his and Oliver's closeness, considering he didn't have a sparkling reputation like their son.

"It's okay, Ollie. Maybe next year."

Oliver's eyes levelled his, and he practically oozed sarcasm. After a few confused seconds, Connor realised this was their Seventh Year, and therefore their last.

"Okay, um, bad thing to say. Sorry. I'm, uh..."

"Loads of people don't get to go," Laurel cut in over Connor's stuttered comforts. "Before last year, my parents refused to sign the slip. Besides, Hogsmeade isn't that great. Everyone just gets excited because it's an opportunity for snowball fights."

Oliver let a small laugh slip, and released his jumper sleeves from his grip. Connor's stomach eased. He silently thanked Laurel for filling the part of the best friend role that Connor had never seemed to fully grasp.

"Laurel's right. And if you really want, I can bring you some of those sweets you like - your favourites, what are they called.. fudge flies!"

"Connor, you really don't have to waste money on me." Oliver said it with no force, likely because he knew that Connor would never hesitate to spend money on him. Connor kept quiet about how he knew he'd spend all he had, in a moment, if it were for the sake of Oliver's happiness.

"Maybe I'll even get a few pictures. Of course, I'd need a camera I guess. Where would I get a camera?"

Laurel and Oliver collectively rolled their eyes. Annoyed, at himself mostly, Connor reminded himself to be more careful with his wealth. Not everyone had rich, careless families. 

Thinking his words through, Connor tried the comforting friend thing once more. "Ollie?"

"Hm?"

"What about.. I don't go?

"What?" Both Oliver and Laurel said it, loud enough to be shushed from some invisible person a few rows over.

"It just doesn't seem fair that I go when you can't. So, why don't I stay here with you?" He looked directly at Oliver as he talked, trying to calm his heartbeat when Oliver's face fell in to a grin.

"That's sweet. But, I'm so glad you have me around to stop you making rash decisions," Oliver said. The smile lighting up his features was so wide it pushed up his glasses slightly. 

It was the one he wore when he got a letter from his family, the one he wore when he saw Connor again at the start of each year, the one he wore when someone did something nice for him and he couldn't decide between being delighted or shocked. 

It was Connor's favourite thing to look at.

"It's not a rash decision. It's me being a good friend," Connor said, with mock offence.

"I appreciate it Connor, really, and you are a great friend. Really." The word 'friend' only stung a little. "But if you don't go to Hogsmeade, then how else will I get my fudge flies?" 

~~~

Through a swirling haze of snowflakes, Hogsmeade looked even more beautiful. Like the kind of dream people find on postcards; the place they wish they could be.

Connor loved this place; the small buildings which gave warmth to cold limbs from miles away, the endlessly cheery faces of everyone who passed, the pale backdrop that never seemed to finish. There was something breathtaking about a place away from everything else, where only the warm Christmassy spirit existed.

If only Oliver were here, Connor thought. _Then it'd be the most beautiful place in the world._

As soon as they arrived, the students filtered out and headed for their first destination. Most immediately went in the direction of Honeydukes, and the rest for Three Broomsticks. Connor tugged his green-striped scarf tighter and followed the former group.

Honeydukes had to be one of Connor's favourite parts of Hogsmeade - the second he entered, his senses were drowned in syrupy, sugary scents, most he could match to a label in his head. 

It didn't take him long to find the section stacked with small packets, layering the shelves in all their blue and chocolate-brown delight. Connor could practically smell that soft, rosy scent of Oliver's _thank you_ hug already. 

"You're so whipped."

For a second, Connor frowned to himself, wondering if the words had been spoken in his head, as some sort of self-aware epiphany. Then he realised, and spun around to find Laurel standing just behind him.

She sported a smug face, as if she could hear Connor's wishful thoughts about Oliver. 

Connor said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Though her nose was tinged red and her eyes watery from the cold, Laurel's expression was still intimidating enough to make Connor blush.

"You know I'm not stupid. And I know you're in love with Oliver. It's not like you hide it well."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't even spend that much time around the two of you, but you're quite obviously head over heels."

"Shut up, Laurel. I don't love him. He's my best friend, how would that even work? Just, shut up."

She smirked, and Connor would've rolled his eyes. But he was busy trying to appear somewhat unperturbed - as if Laurel hadn't just stated the blaring truth Connor had been so desperately trying to hide even from himself.

"Why are you buying him sweets then?"

"Seriously? Because he's my best friend. And he's never been to Hogsmeade, and these are his favourite sweets, and I feel bad for him."

"Are you going to buy him anything else?"

"No."

A mocking eyebrow raised.

"Well, yeah... But only some socks. From Gladrags. Because he needs new ones. And the ones at Gladrags are cute."

"Cute?"

"In a platonic way!"

Once again, Laurel raised an eyebrow, then gave in and simply laughed. It was a warm laugh, and Connor saw the gentleness there that was present in Oliver's laugh. Maybe he should trust her.

"Connor, you know how this sounds right?"

"It's not like socks are some grand romantic gesture."

"Are you buying anything for yourself this weekend?"

"No. I don't need anything."

"Right. What you _need_ is Oliver."

"Shut up Laurel!" The look on her face was one similar to a knowing mother. "...Fine. You got me, well done. I guess I like him."

"Love him."

"I don't know. Whatever it is, he's my best friend, and I can't feel that way, because he never will."

She sighed, leant forward to pick up a pack of fudge flies, and gave him a small pat on the shoulder with her free hand. 

Before turning away, she said, in a much kinder tone, "if you really want him to know you care, without telling him you love him of course, get him something thoughtful. Not just something he likes, but something that shows you want him to have everything."

Connor hesitated, and picked up his own packet. After paying and stepping out into the chill air again, Connor made up his mind. Oliver liked Laurel, so she would probably be a good person to listen to. In his head, he made a note to visit Gladrags Wizardwear.

But first, Tomes and Scrolls. He had a thoughtful gift in mind.

~~~

It was all too easy for Connor to sneak out of Slytherin dormitory. What was even easier was slipping through shadows and treading lightly over stone, all the way to the Hufflepuff Basement. 

Before he'd left for Hogsmeade, Connor had agreed with Oliver to meet in the Hufflepuff common room at around midnight. As they'd met under the same circumstances before - sometimes to study, sometimes for midnight feasts, sometimes just to talk - Connor knew the entry knock by heart.

When he reached the stack of barrels in the kitchen corridor, Connor cited it. He tapped the barrel; two from the bottom, middle of the second row. 

As he stepped into the common room, he saw Oliver; softly hunched at the end of one of the couches, face illuminated by fire, sleeping. Connor had to force himself not to watch him - that's not what friends do.

So, instead, he gently shook Oliver's shoulder and he opened his eyes with an absent mumble. When his gaze landed on Connor, he immediately brightened. 

"Oh hey, Con. Sorry, I got out of bed a couple of hours ago - I was excited - and I fell asleep again here." The last words trailed into a yawn.

With a smile, Connor said, "it's fine. And you have every reason to be excited."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. Connor swore the expression was identical to Laurel's, and he almost feared Oliver too had seen right through him, and guessed his completely non-platonic crush. Almost. But Connor shook it off, and went back to being logical.

"You know, you have the best best friend a person could possibly have."

Oliver nodded. "You know, I agree. Michaela is great. She's so smart and --"

Connor whacked him with a cushion, but it seemed to have little effect. Probably because they were both laughing, and the Hufflepuff common room was too cosy a place to be furnished with anything other than plump little cushions.

"I'm serious, though, Ollie, you're gonna be so happy." Connor paused before his next words, then remembered that Oliver didn't know his true feelings. "You're gonna love me for this."

Oliver's features slipped into the slightest look of surprise, and Connor thought he maybe saw a little panic. But Oliver answered smoothly. "Well now you've got my hopes up, I'm expecting a solid gold pet horse, okay? Nothing less."

Connor let himself grin as wide as he could, and opened up the small bag he'd brought with him. One by one, he pulled out the contents.

First, the fudge flies. Oliver did that smile again - the one so wide his cheeks bulged in the most adorable manner. He whispered _thank you_ more times than Connor could count.

Next, the socks. "Because you needed some new ones, some decent quality ones," Connor said. Oliver lifted the light green socks, dotted with bright yellow. If he noticed they were the colours of Hufflepuff and Slytherin, he didn't mention it. Again, he stumbled over his profuse thanks.

Finally, Connor pulled out a book. It was wrapped elegantly in brown paper, and he handed it to Oliver to unwrap. When Oliver did just that, his glasses slipped down his nose a little, and he forgot to push them up. 

It was a limited edition copy of Oliver's favourite book - 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Although it was a book present in every magical family's home, it was special to Oliver - he'd owned a copy his family had given to him when he left for his first year of Hogwarts, but he'd lost that copy by Second Year. 

His family never found out, so this was the only replacement he'd ever received. Oliver traced the golden letters gracing the cover, and looked up at Connor, eyes dancing.

"Connor, I, I don't..."

"Do you like it?"

"Of course I like it. I love it. Really, wow. Thank you. So much. God, this is limited edition. How much did this cost you?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter." _Seeing you happy makes it completely worth it._

"Connor you can't give me this. It's too... I feel bad."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's for you."

Oliver's face was a gorgeous mix of surprise, happiness, and wonder. "It's not even my birthday or anything."

"Ollie, I don't mind. It's for you."

Carefully, placing the book down, with reverence it probably didn't need, Oliver pulled Connor in close and for just a second Connor thought it was happening, Oliver was kissing him, but then he felt cotton-wrapped arms encircle him and they were hugging. 

And it was enough to make Connor's heart erupt. That familiar smell of rose surrounded him, and he closed his eyes, and let himself be encompassed by Oliver's scent, and Oliver. 

Connor wasn't sure if his imagination conjured it out of hope, but he could've sworn he felt Oliver's soft smile against his neck. They stayed in the embrace for just a moment longer than perhaps they should have. 

Eventually, Oliver pulled away slowly. Still with a soft smile, teeth glowing, cheeks pushing out, he said, "thank you, Connor. You weren't kidding about being the best best friend ever."

Gently, Oliver placed a hand on Connor's, and rubbed a thumb over his skin. 

And although Connor knew it couldn't mean what he wanted it to mean, he let himself revel in the knowledge that it was the least platonic thing they'd ever done.

And that was enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr; ecto-hampton (was makers-manhattan)


End file.
